Sweet Seheron
by Paladins
Summary: When Fenris is left behind on Seheron he isn't saved by the Fog Warriors.  Instead, Malcom Hawke finds him and takes him home.
1. Chapter 1

"Dear, really? I mean, my heart goes out to him but we're already in danger. Do we want to bring more attention to us, now?"

"I can't just leave him, Leandra."

"He's... no! Until he's better." Her shoulders sagged and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Malcom, I love you."

"I love you too dear," he said, pulling her forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and kissing her temple. "And it'll all be okay."

"You always say that."

"Have I been wrong yet?" He kissed her again, and then disentangled himself from her to walk towards the hut where the elf was laying. Opening the door he saw his eldest caring for him. Bethany was cleaning the rags, and Carver had been sent out to see if anybody had seen or heard anything. Marian cleaned his wounds manually. The elf had attacked, arms flailing when Bethany had summoned her healing magic forth. That left it to Marian, while he went to go talk to his wife, to try and heal him.

"Father," Bethany said from her position, as far away from the elf as she could be. He obviously did not like mages, and Bethany was scared of him from the hunched way she sat.  
>"How is he?" Malcom asked, keeping his distance. The green eyes behind the white curtain of hair watched him, watched all of them closely.<p>

"He's been better," Marian said, reaching up and moving the hair out of his eyes. The elf jumped and flinched, glancing at her. Marian clicked her tongue, reaching and wiping away at the sweat on his forehead. "But he's going to be okay."  
>"Has he said anything?"<p>

"Just keeps watching Bethany like she's going kill him," Marian shrugged. "If you and her leave, we might get a little more from him. Just a thought."

"Bethany, you can go help your mother now." Bethany took the opening and dashed out of the hut.

"Da, I'd be fine," Marian said, frowning as she took the cool rag from him and went back to cleaning the wound on the elf's shoulder. "He's quite... docile when no magic is involved."

"Last one?"

"Yes. It's shallow." She wrapped the wound, and the elf sat stiff as a board as she worked. "Now all he needs is a decent meal and some sleep."

"Your mother has the food covered, and we'll set up a makeshift bed in here for him."

"I'll get to work on it."

"I'll go get the blankets. I'll... trust you." He stood and with one last smile to the elf he walked to their home. The elf watched him go, his one good hand clenching.

"Anything in particular you want for dinner, elf?" she asked, and his brilliant eyes swung around to stare at her. "We don't have much, admittedly, but if you have any preferences." She trailed off as she rinsed out the rag and re rolled some of the bandages.

"They're mages," he said finally, making her jump and fumble with the rags. She caught it before it completely unraveled.

"Yes," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him with a nod. "You don't like magic?"

He shrugged, glancing around as if avoiding her.

"Do you have a name? I don't like using 'elf' to refer to you. And you know mine."

His eyes trailed back towards her, and he swallowed hard. "Fenris."

"Fenris." She smiled and nodded to him. "Thank you." He just stared at her, giving an awkward nod to make her stop watching.

He sat in the dirt, watching her as she packed away the bandages in a small box. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her golden honey eyes focused on organizing the box so everything fit. She didn't speak again, and for that he was grateful. He didn't know what to say, or to do. She was far too kind, her calloused hands gentle when they had tended to him.

He had expected to be backhanded when he had reacted to the female mage. He hadn't meant to, except healing magic was cold as it stitched the skin back together. It's beginning wasn't much different as when Master Danarius activated the lyrium in his skin, the cold numbness spreading before the pain. Fenris knew he shouldn't have reacted, but it had shocked him, scared him. He had not expected anybody to be mages, here on Seheron that wasn't bound with their lips stitched, or from Tevinter and owning slaves.

Yet this family had two mages, from the looks, and lived in the run down huts with 'little food' as she- Marian- said. It did not make sense. Especially that she continued to tend to him after he had nearly struck the female mage. She seemed to even get more gentle, after his episode. He jumped when the male mage, their father, came back in. He carried a tray and blankets, and Marian stood with graceful ease to meet him. The man stood at a respectful distance away. Fenris didn't quite understand why.

"Here are the blankets, and some stew."

"His name is Fenris, if that helps you talk to Mama about it," she said, taking the blankets and tossing them off to the side and carefully taking the tray.

He kissed her forehead with a smile. "The more real he gets, the more I'll be able to weasel out of her."

She laughed at that before turning and carrying the tray over. Fenris curled up more, holding his knees up and staring at the steaming stew. "All yours, Fenris," she said, and his eyes jumped up to her smiling face. She sat back on her haunches, wiped her hands, and then fluidly stood to start positioning the blankets. Her father moved to help her.

He was tall, his sandy hair cut short, just over his round ears. His face was long, with crows feet and laugh lines. But handsome, Fenris figured. He held himself nobly, with square shoulders, fit shoulders for a mage, and nimble fingers. He did not seem a mage, to Fenris. Too dirty, too strong and capable. But when the mages green eyes traveled back to him, he busied himself with the stew.

Malcom turned back to helping Marian get the blankets laid out. Seheron was a fairly warm place, the bugs a testament to it, but the nights could get chilly. And the pillow would probably be very much welcome. "I'm going to go find Carver. If he's out smoozing with Peaches again instead of coming back, I'll box the boys ears."

Marian laughed again. "Alright, Da." He then turned, gave another bright smile to Fenris, and then disappeared out the door. Fenris tried to eat as quickly as possible, but he was fumbling with his left hand, and his right was bandaged and broken. She giggled when the stew sloshed and spilt. Face red, he hunched further into himself, avoiding the mocking gaze. Except she sat in front of him, legs crossing. "Looks like you're right handed. That means you're going to have to eat a little slower, Fenris."

He glanced up, keeping his hair to hide his eyes. She just smiled, moving some of the bread and fruit. He wondered if she had an obsessive problem, or if this was as awkward for her as it was for him. But it couldn't be, could it? He was a slave, still. Maybe. Master Danarius would be back, and he was still property. They weren't, right? He was... Fenris growled, dropping the spoon and leaning back.

"Was it something I said? I'm sorry." She pulled her hands back, placing them in her lap and picking at the dirt under her nails. "I'd leave you to eat in peace, but after what you've been through, whatever you've done, I'd hate for you to end up throwing up without somebody to make sure you're okay." A moment of thought. "And here to clean it so you don't end up sleeping in a room with vomit steaming in the corner."

When he finished, she took the tray and gave him a bright smile , saying "If you need anything, we're just over there. You're in our storage barn, so if you're hungry, just steal a little." She gave him a wink at that. "I'll come check on you in the morning, make sure you're still breathing and bring some breakfast. Sleep well, Fenris."

She didn't lie. She was there early morning, appraising the blankets he had folded and then him, sitting and staring at the wall. That was what the next two days were like, sitting in the hut and simply existing. Marian and her brother, Carver, both came in and out of the hut, helping him. They- she tried to urge him to come outside, but it terrified him at first. He had no Master anymore. Danarius was gone. What did you do when you were free? It was his choice now, wasn't it? What did he want to do?

He finally emerged from the hut late in the morning. Carver sat out in some of the mud, digging out some of their crops, covered and messy. He ran the muck through his hair, across his forehead wiping at the sweat. Bethany walked out carrying some cups, smiling and kicking her brother gently and he swiped at her legs. Fenris felt like he was intruding. When Bethany stood up she spotted him. She stiffened, but gave him a smile. Carver glanced at her and then stretched to see him.

"Hey," Carver said, frowning and grunting as he stood, holding the cup in his teeth. He turned and nodded to Bethany and handed her back the cup. "Walking again huh?"

Fenris glanced at him, and the urge came to not respond to that. So he didn't. Carver glared at him, but simply turned. "Go tell Da. And Marian will want to know."

"Mama can finally meet him," Bethany said, turning and skipping back up into the hut.  
>Fenris felt giddy. He had been rude and nothing had happened. He reached up, scratching at his shoulder wound. Carver raised an eyebrow at that. "I warn you now. There are two people in that hut that will smack you for picking at your wounds. And Da won't be too kind about it either." Carver picked up the basket of crops with a grunt and Fenris let his hand drop, staring wide eyed from his back and to the door.<p>

Marian burst out with a grin, and behind her the rest of the family filtered out. Malcom walked out with a pretty lady on his arm. She was short and frail looking. Her hair was dark, but greying. Long and pulled up, away, easily manageable and twisted in a bun. Her face looked tired, weary against the stress of Seheron. Her clothes large on her frame, the wrap a dull yellow color, her feet covered in leather. She clung to Malcom, frowns pulling at her pretty face.

"We're going to have to get you some better clothes," Marian said , appraising him. Carver's pants hung low on his slender hips, the human bigger. His shirt had been torn and lost when he had run, his armor dented and left rusting somewhere on the island. Leaving him terribly exposed. It still felt like a knife in his gut, thinking like that. But none of them said anything about it. None of them even asked about his tattoos, though they ogled when they thought he wasn't looking. Still, he hunched over and watched them all.

"We wouldn't want him running around with his pants on the ground, true," Malcom said with a chuckle. Fenris glanced down and pulled his pants up.

"We've lived in the jungle too long," the lady said, glaring at all of them. "None of you have any manners. And I've tried so hard."

"Sorry Mama," they all said together, and Malcom just kissed her temple.

"Fenris, this is Mama. Mama, Fenris," Marian said with a flourish. "Or Leandra, if you don't feel right calling her Mama."

"Old lady usually works. Or just 'hey you' considering we live alone in the jungle," Carver said, earning a slap over the head from Bethany.

Leandra ignored both of them, mostly Carver, and extended her hand to him. Fenris glanced from it and back up to her, eyes wide. He slowly took her hand and she shook it. "Oh, you poor dear." She held a dainty hand to her mouth. Fenris pulled his hands away, finding the pity to be as hurtful as when Hadriana kicked his ribs one of the many nights he was forced to spend with her.

He glared at her but hid it behind a curtain of white hair. "Mama," Bethany and Marian said with a groan.

"What?"

"And our manners are bad," Marian groaned. "How are you feeling?" she asked, turning back to Fenris.

He glanced at her. "Fine."

"Fine?"

He glared at her too and she threw her arms up in the air. "He's male," Marian muttered to Bethany. "I'm going to go trade with the Fog Warriors, before I ruin a good moment."

"Hold up," Carver yelled, running inside and coming out with a great sword and running after her. She picked up two of the large bundles and bags they had piled at the side of their shack, and Carver carried the other three, continuously cursing her for not stopping. And leaving him with the larger load most likely. Fenris watched them go, swallowing as he glanced back at the two mages and the lady, unable to shake off the dread that filled his guts.

"Bethany get the crops and go start washing them please," Malcom said and Leandra turned to help her daughter. "And you, Fenris. Why don't you come drink some tea with an old man."

Fenris watched as Bethany hoisted the basket, carrying it against her hip as she walked out, speaking quickly to her mother, free hand waving. Leandra followed easily, walking like the pretty ladies back in Tevinter. She was not born in the jungles of Seheron. She was from somewhere with money and stone walls. He turned back to see Malcom pouring the sweetened tea into some cups, sitting on the porch of the hut.

Like the storage hut, their shack was on stilts. Unlike the large Qunari settlement, their home was ugly, run down, and seemed mismatched. But Malcom smiled as he let his legs swing at the edge of the porch. Fenris moved and curled his legs beneath him, making a point to sit beside the mage, at arms length. He did not have his sword anymore, but he did not need it. And Malcom did not know that, he assumed.

"So how are you feeling? Two days of sitting in our little storage shack, you alright?"

"Fine," Fenris repeated, eyeing him as Malcom passed over the cup.

"Marian's good about wounds. Her and Carver get in scraps often, and Bethany isn't always around. My big girl can stitch a wound," he said, sounding proud. "Course, her bartering skills are sub par."

Fenris sipped the tea, watching him. Since he didn't say anything, Malcom just continued.

"Carver isn't much better, really. But he won't stay behind. And it's not like we need him here."

"You are aligned with the Fog Warriors?" Fenris said finally.

"Aligned? More like we have a treaty. We aren't fighting with them, really. Ever. My family hasn't killed anybody except in defense." He shrugged. "But between the Qunari and the Tevinters around here, we tend to ally our trade with the Fog Warriors."

"Are there many like you?"

"Like us?" Malcom scratched at the stubs of hair on his chin. "Outsider clans, all just living through the days? I haven't met any others. But, I don't travel very much. We found this little plot of land, and I've not strayed very far. Marian and Carver do enough of that."

"You sound displeased."

"The Tevinters have been making some hard pushes lately. And the Qunari push back even harder. And the Fog Warriors helpfully throw rocks and shaking their butts like monkeys at both armies. Of course I don't like my kids out running around with all that." Malcom gave a gusty sigh. "But I'd have better luck kicking a jaguar in the mouth and out running it than keeping either of those two from frolicking out in the jungle. Getting them to stop dragging Bethany around has already been a trying experience."

Keeping Bethany safe, fighting to keep her safe. Fenris noticed the singularity of that, and the thought that their mage daughter was the one they fought for. But he said nothing. It made perfect sense to him. What didn't was that it seemed almost subconscious, from listening to Malcom. Odd, but not worth mentioning. Fenris set the cup down, and after a moment of struggling, he finally said, "Thank you."

Malcom hummed with a smile, staring down into his cup. "You're welcome." After that, they sat in companionable silence, something Fenris was not used to but found that he enjoyed.

It was like that until Bethany and Leandra came back, the basket dripping river water. They walked up, both dipping to give Malcom a kiss before entering the home. "Lunch soon," Bethany called, glancing this time at both of them. Fenris hunched, feeling again like he didn't belong.

Malcom grunted as he stood, some joints popping as he stretched. It was easy going, Fenris noticed. Malcom made his way around to the animals- most likely stolen- and took care of them. Leandra and Bethany sat in the home, gossiping and cooking. Everything seemed to be surreal. At least, until Marian and Carver came strutting in. Because that was the only way to describe how Carver was walking. Marian had a mango in her mouth, her hands busying themselves with slapping Carver and juggling the bundles she carried. Carver was just out of arms reach, carrying the rest of the mangoes, there weren't that many, and his own, slightly larger, bundles.

Finally getting her bags under control, Marian was able to remove the mango and wipe away the excess juice trailing down her chin. "You're such an ass, Carver," she called, somewhat quietly. It was likely she didn't want her mother hearing that language.

Carver just had a pleased smirk on his face, jogging in to the opening and up the stairs. He glanced at Fenris, who simply watched, before tossing him a mango and disappearing inside. Fenris caught it, just quick enough to keep his hands gentle around the mango. There was a strangled roar and Fenris glanced back to see Marian making a face at the hut before stomping towards the storage.

When she came out she was carrying a simple small leather bag. She grinned down at him, passing it over. Fenris made sure his hands were clean before taking it. "Some things we got you. A few wraps, mostly, and some nuts. I personally find the nuts and mushrooms from the northern end amazing, but the Qunari keep them rather guarded. Keep the whole damn area guarded. But the rebels had some. Don't let Carver steal yours. He's already eaten all of his nuts." She turned to slip inside the house, right up until she saw him staring at the wrap, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he unfolded it. "You don't wear wraps in Tevinter." It wasn't a question so Fenris decided not to respond. It was exhilarating really. "I didn't know what size pants really to trade for, so you got some wraps. They match your eyes," she said with a grin.

Fenris stared at the green color of the wraps, staring up at her incredulously. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he glared back. Rolling her eyes, but smiling, she motioned for him to stand. "The wrap will fit better than the pants. I promise." He folded the wrap quickly before standing as she motioned. "And they're a lot more comfortable when you're just moseying around. Trees are thick and keep most of the heat at bay, which we're lucky for. But the humidity makes leathers and clothes in general unbearable if you don't need them."

She took the wrap and began tying it around his waist, over the pants. He watched dutifully, having to agree that the trousers he wore had been uncomfortable. Tevinter was never humid. Not like this anyway. The sticky weather had the trousers clinging to him. Unlike the ladies', the wrap stayed tied and twisted around his waist, firmly in place, amazingly. Bethany and Leandra wore their wraps, faded and ends torn unlike his, tied up and tucked around their shoulders, hiding everything improper. Fenris had not seen enough women on Seheron to know if this was usual, or something a city born like Leanddra brought with her.

Marian gave his hip a pat as she stood. "That's how you do it. Right, at least. Covers everything and whatnot. Of course, you can get lazy. Da will be able to give you some tips if you want them. And Carver can teach you a dozen cheats to make it easier. Course, he's been caught airing himself out unintentionally a few times too." She shrugged. "If you just want to slip the trousers off, I'll hand them off to Beth when I go in. Three people in there already, it's going to be unbearably stuffy. An invalid like you shouldn't have to go through that." She smiled and it took him a minute to realize she was teasing. He thought at least. A moment later and he realized she was only teasing about the invalid part.

"Or, you know, you can take the trousers off in the shack. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." She shrugged. Apparently he took too long. It was probably for the better. Her lack of modesty and personal space to the body, naked or not, made Fenris fidget. He had honestly thought she was jesting before. She turned and made her way into the house, and a yelp told him that Carver had received his payment. The young man stumbled out, wearing his own wrap now, tied far looser than the one Fenris wore, and glared over his shoulder.

Carver turned and eyed him, swallowing his chuckles at finding him wearing pants and a wrap, before hopping off the porch, forgoing the stairs, and trotting over to the animals. Malcom and him began speaking, the younger one trying to push the pigs away so he could get the trough and feed them. Malcom leaned on their rickety fence, laughing at his son's efforts. Or perhaps the face Carver made. Fenris wasn't sure.

The next weeks were the best that Fenris could remember.

Day seven he walked out in his blue wrap, idly scratching at the wound across his abdomen, making sure Marian or Leandra weren't around. Carver had not been lying. Marian and Leandra both had slapped at his hands. Leandra with a peculiar expression that made him feel completely ashamed and schooled. The three giggled, calling it "The Look". A look every woman developed when she became a mother. Marian just clicked her tongue and slapped his wrist, glaring at him and telling him to stop. Both were affective. He didn't itch when they were around. But the minor magic used from Bethany and the salve Marian used had his wounds healing quicker than natural and that made them itch.

He quickly let his hand drop when he saw Marian stretched out on the porch, a book in hand. He hadn't known they had books. Not that it mattered. Slaves weren't allowed to learn to read. He glanced over to find Malcom walking over with a fishing rod and a spears resting on his shoulder. "Is your hand better?" the mage asked.

"Better."

"Want to come fish with me? Instead of sit around here fighting off the ticks and mosquitoes?"

"I will then fight them off with my feet in the river?"

"At least you're feet will be cool. And I got some tea to go."

There was no way to refuse that. Except, "I do not know how to fish."

Malcom's face dropped. "You can't fish? The shame of them Magisters. Can't fish," he grumbled, shaking his head. "You're going to learn how to fish, my boy. That's not an offer. C'mon." He slapped Fenris's good shoulder and began the trek out to the river. Malcom hummed a song Fenris did not know, but it was a nice calming song. The whistling was beautiful, and the bobbing of his sandy head made Fenris smirk as he followed. Malcom knew where he was going, but he glanced around, and stopped to point.

Fenris followed the finger, as silent as Malcom, finding the one giant tree he was pointing to. Every tree was huge, higher than most buildings from Tevinter, and the branches and vines stretched out, wrapping around each tree, creating a beautiful canopy that let in only ribbons of light. Lounging across some of the branches was a panther, a large reptile under his paw, his tail twitching. The brown green lizard was ripped open, a meal for the panther. Malcom smiled at Fenris, who stared up in awe, even swiping away at his hair to get a better view.

Malcom smiled, turning and continuing to walk. "The jungle is dangerous. You want to look up to enjoy the beauty, forgetting the beauty down at the ground. The flowers, the plants, the trees, the roots. But it's all so dangerous. All the beauty, it's dangerous as the void. So you look to the ground, to protect yourself. So then you got everything from above dropping on you and looking to scalp you before you can scream."

Fenris glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Mostly it's not the jungle you have to worry about jumping you from above. I've had some monkeys get angry at me, and Marian and Carver both have some horror stories. But generally, it's Qunari and Fog Warriors you have to worry about coming down from above. I've never been jumped by a panther."

"Marian and Carver have?"

"If they have, they were smart enough not to tell me." Malcom gave him another bright smile before continuing with his whistling and a jump in a step. The mage was confident in his step, almost graceful as he walked the animal trail. He'd walked this trail forever though, probably. It was not surprising he'd be able to walk it so well. They heard the bubble of the river long before they saw it. Once there, Fenris watched as Malcom scratched at the stubble on his chin, pondering as he glanced up and down the river.

"Well, there are likely to be more fish down there," he said,pointing, and then continued, "but there are some very fine rocks to sit and bask on up there." He glanced back at Fenris.

"Then we should go to the fish," Fenris said, as if it was obvious. It should have been.

But Malcom hummed and glanced up to the rocks. "Let's go sit on the rocks, Fenris." Malcom turned and made his way up the river. Fenris stared from his broad back, down the river, and then back again. Malcom glanced over his shoulder, started whistling that tune, and nearly disappeared. Fenris jogged to catch up, teeth grinding as his injuries gave complaint.

When he caught up, he glared at Malcom. "The fish are down the stream you said."

"I did."

Fenris continued to glare. "Then why are we going up the river?"

"I prefer the view. And the seats. Overall it's just a nicer place."

"But we are going fishing."

"We are." Fenris gave a growl, quiet, and he glanced up at the mage to see what he would do. He was a free man now, he could, couldn't he? Make his displeasure known was not a crime of a free man. Malcom just laughed. "Lot's of men go fishing, not realizing that it is not fish they are after."

"What?"

Malcom gave him a smile. They came to the boulders and Malcom tossed up the spears. He handed the rod off to Fenris, hoisting himself up. Sitting on his haunches he reached down and Fenris handed the fishing rod up to him. Hand still extended, Fenris waited and considered the hand. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up without the help. Malcom lost his smile, an eyebrow raised. But he said nothing.

"You can get the rod," Malcom said, passing it over, "and I'll spear the fish. Eventually."

Fenris glared up at him as Malcom got comfortable. The blonde stared drinking his tea, uncorking the ceramic and humming. Fenris untied the net, setting it beside him. He unhooked the box full of the bait and began trying to work the hook and the string. Except his hands were not made for the finesse of this. Of the flimsy rod. His hands held broadswords and tore hearts out of chests. His hands were rough and calloused. He fumbled with the hook, glaring at it.

Malcom enjoyed the scenery as he continued to fumble, until after a moment the older man stopped to just watch Fenris's hands. It was embarrassing, and Fenris dropped the hook and growled. "If we are not here for fish, than what are we here for?"

Malcom chuckled. "You need to relax, my boy." Fenris wasn't sure why he called him that, but that would be a topic for another time. "Fishing is grand. You sit here in this beautiful place, and pursue the the elusive and yet so very attainable. Always in a perpetual state of hope."

Fenris's brows furrow as he glared up Malcom. "I don't..."

"Ah, don't listen to me. Fishing turns men into philosophers." Malcom rolled his shoulder and picked up the hook. "And I've always been told I talk to damn much. Fishing has to make me just unbearable huh?"

Fenris shrugged, watching as Malcom strung the hook. "You just got to slow down, Fenris. Relax. Fishing isn't supposed to be stressful. Unless, you know, the family is starving and this is all we got. But that's not happening right now, so, stop stressing, my boy. Nobody is relying on us to bring home a fish the size of a Qunari's forearm to feed the baby."

"You do talk a lot," he said finally, taking the hook back.

Malcom tossed his head back with a laugh. "Good to know you side with my children, then, Fenris." Fenris smiled a little, shoving a worm onto the hook and glancing back at Malcom, who nodded. "Generally, there's an art to the flick of the wrist to get the hook into the river. But, right now, just toss it in. I'll teach you the wrist flick later. When you have wrists to flick."

Fenris glared up at him for that, but he dropped the hook into the river, and the two of them sat on that boulder as the sky turned to a salamander red, the forest darkening considerably around them. Fenris found himself whistling a tune he didn't know, and Malcom simply bobbed his head with that same bright, honest smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Day eleven he glanced up from the bowl he was given to see Bethany fumbling with her basket, the wraps and trousers overflowing from it. She was not as graceful as the rest of her family. Like Leandra. Both had the beautiful saunter. But that sort of pretty walk wasn't fit for the uneven dirt of Seheron. He caught her easily, pushing up to keep her from landing on her butt and clothes flying.

She glanced down at him, righting herself with a blush and fumbling to get the clothes that did fall. "Sorry," she said with a smile, chewing at her bottom lip. Marian tossed the book she had been reading, same one she always seemed to be reading, with a loud bang against the porch and hopped down. Carver himself was walking over, herding the pigs. They needed some washing too. Or perhaps just some walking.

Marian took the basket easily, hoisting it up and balancing it on her head for a second before having to snap her hands back up to keep it here with a giggle. Carver rolled his eyes, glaring at her. Bethany wiped her hands, glancing at him. "Want to come?" she offered.

"We're going to do laundry and drown Carver," Marian put in with a smile, taking the basket off her head and giving a spin.

"As if you could," the young man said snidely, using his foot to keep one of the piglets on the path.

"In a heartbeat," Marian cheered, her smile large. Ear to ear, as the saying was. Fenris watched the two, intrigued by their relationship.

"C'mon," Bethany said, her head shaking at the two. "We could always use the extra hand with the laundry. I've fallen behind." She gave a breathless laugh, an embarrassed laugh. Fenris rose from his knee, picking up the bowl and glancing from it to them.

"Bring it along, we'll wash it now," Bethany said, reaching to take it from him. He held it, carrying it himself. Bethany pulled her hands back, looking far more hurt than her father did when he refused his help. She rubbed her hands together, giving him a timid smile before following the two others, who continued to bicker over something as nonsensical as the fact that Marian was shorter than Carver.

Fenris followed behind her, familiar with the trail. He and Malcom went fishing every few days it seemed. Malcom enjoyed it far too much, Fenris thought. But it was calming. Fenris could not deny that. He imagined his visit to the river with these three was not going to be nearly as serene. Especially when Marian tossed a wrap at Carver, who tossed it back. Bethany took the wrap before Marian could throw it again.

There was no time to enjoy the scenery. No time to stare at the tree tops and look for monkeys or cats. The basket was passed around between the three, and keeping the pigs in line took all their attention. The pigs did not run, just seemed to wander. They were well trained. Course, that didn't mean there wasn't that one stray that liked to get under their feet, or to fall into the bushes. Bethany ended up carrying that one, and subsequently dropping him in the large mama pig the second, knowing the routine. Marian made her way up where the dirty pig water wouldn't run into their clothes.

Bethany ended up sitting at the bank, watching the pigs. She had a large stick she found, to guide the pigs easier, with less swimming. Carver waded into the water, cupping some and pouring it over his head. Marian tossed one of his shirts at him. "You don't get to play if I'm doing the laundry," she hissed.

"This is lady's work," Carver said, and a smirk said he wasn't done. "So why are you doing it Mari?"

"Come over here and say that, Carver," she threatened, raising her chin in a obvious challenge. Carver simply turned, ignoring her. "At least pull up your wrap, idiot. Nobody here wants to see your butt crack." Carver flushed and pulled at the soaking wrap, glaring at her.

"But you'd like to see somebody else's Mari?" Bethany said with a giggle.

Marian flushed, glaring at Bethany. "You're reading way too much into that." She tossed a wrap at Bethany as well. The young sister giggled and threw it back, missing Marian and ended up hitting Fenris. "Good job, Beth." Marian than proceeded to toss him a quarter of the pile, creating a small mound beside him.

Fenris glanced down at the pile, and then back at Marian. She was a multitasker. Dunking one of the pants and throwing a clump of mud at her brother at the same time. Fenris wasn't sure how the two had existed so long in a constant argument. But Bethany was at ease with it, mostly, and that told him to be okay with it as well. Carver waded back over, taking some clothes as well, sloshing them under the water. Fenris followed suit, awkwardly trying to control the piece. While he was slow, methodological, Marian and Carver fought the clothes into submission and quickly whipped the dirt out of them.

They were done long before him, spreading the clothes out for drying. All their eyes were on him, and he knew it. He hunched his shoulders up defensively. Carver coughed, moving back to cool off in the water. Marian turned to him, legs cross, and fighting with her soaked wrap to not flash her breast. "You know, I am sorry if I offend, but I am so tired of pussy footing around this topic." Fenris glanced up, catching the way Bethany's eyes grew the size of a saucer, and Carver stopped what he was doing to turn and watch. "You were a slave, right?"

He nodded.

"Right. You're a freed slave who is really awkward with laundry?"

"I was Ma- Danarius's bodyguard." He swallowed, pulling up the wrap and enjoying the cool water that soaked his legs.

"Danarius? The Magister then?" He nodded. "Do the tattoos signify your status? They're odd." Her fingers twitched, as if she wished to touch them again. She hadn't been shy, just subtle, about touching them. Fenris wasn't sure if Marian knew how to be shy.

"Mari!" Bethany hissed.

"I'm tired of all this walking around eggshells about it. Anything he doesn't' want to talk about he doesn't have to. But I am curious, and I would like to know more. I'm not asking anything overly personally, I'd think." She turned back to Fenris. "You do know that right? You don't have to tell me anything."

"I wouldn't tell you if I didn't want to," Fenris said, chin raised. She grinned, not a smirk, an encouraging expression. Fenris found he preferred this. Her just asking, instead of treating him as if he was glass. "But the tattoos were specially made. With lyrium."

"Lyrium? That explains why they were so rough," she said, eyes wide as they continued to trail down from the stripes on her chin, neck, and chest. "Wait, I thought lyrium was poisonous? I mean, it can go through the stomach, but it doesn't even like that. Too much lyrium and you end up with acidic runs. I've more than once had to put up with Beth after-"

"Okay, thank you!" Bethany yelled, face bright like a ripe pomegranate. "That's enough of that topic, thank you."

"I do not know how Danarius was able to inject my skin, my veins with the lyrium. But he did,and it was apparently expensive. Between that and my abilities, I was his prize," Fenris snarled.

""Damn Tevinter slavers. Worse than the Qunari, they are."

"By the Qun I will never be anything beside an asshole outsider belonging to a clan that will die out," Carver said with a dark chuckle, and Bethany matched it with a roll of her eyes.

"What?"

"By the Qun, we will never be anything more than we are now, or anything less. You a assigned your position in life. You have no parents, you are bred to fill a position in the living entity of the society you inhabit. You are titled by that position, and your world revolves around that position." Marian licked her lips. "You should never want to be more than what you are, and you cannot be less."

"Society is a living entity?" Fenris asked.

"Yep. The craftsman are the mind, the soldiers the body, and priests the soul. The Qun is their philosophy, a sort of religion, and they follow it like fanatical zealots, wishing to crush us all under the heavy burden of living it."

"The upside is, the world would be a dozen times more orderly," Bethany said, with a smile. "The downside would be that my lips would be sewn shut and my new name would be Saarebas."

"You'd get to wear a sexy sexy collar and be led around by a big man with a handsome set of horns," Marian said with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. Bethany's face again darkened and she threw some mud at Marian for it. Fenris smirked at the embarrassed antics. Marian just laughed, stretching her legs. One into the river, one stretched behind him.

These three were so odd to him. They had such a lack of modesty, their natures violent. Their conversations jumped from one topic to another quickly. They made little sense sometimes. Especially Marian and Carver, when they were speaking only to each other. But he had such a need, a want to be a part of it. To join with their festivities. To have a place.

"That's not something I needed to think about," Carver said, voice completely deadpanned.

"You're just jealous none of them sexy beasts would want to collar you, Carver. And that all the women could kick your ass." She smirked when she spoke. Carver splashed water at her, and both she and Fenris jumped. He ended up sprawled over her leg and she tried to throw mud at Carver. Fenris admitted there was a thrill that pulled at his stomach, warmth spread through his limbs, as he righted himself, a smirk pulling at his lips. Enjoyment, adrenaline, he wasn't sure.

Bethany yelled. "Hey! You're going to dirty the clothes we just washed!" She was a sense of logic in the wild whirlwind between Carver and Marian. Both the other two glanced back, and then at the clothes Fenris still had to wash. Marian gave a sheepish shrug and Carver went back to the pigs. Bethany rolled her eyes at both of them.

Fenris grabbed the next article of clothing, and glanced to see Marian taking up another one. Together they finished, and they stacked the clothes on the rocks to dry. The silence was odd, and it seemed as if brother and sister were just waiting for an opportune moment. Carver found one first. "You're so good at the laundry, Mari. We almost could believe you're a woman!"

She glared at him, and Fenris could see the gears turning as she came up with a retort. He beat her, and he couldn't resist. He wanted to be apart of it. "He's right, it's such a marvel, Marian."

Her jaw dropped as she looked at him, but it was not an offended look, more surprised, happy, shocked. It relieved Fenris- to know he did not overstep. Bethany was laughing in the back, as was Carver. But then her hand came up and she shoved, laughing as well now. A moment and his reflexes reacted before thought. He grabbed her offending arm, and they both toppled into the river, Marian still laughing. He sat up, both of them in still in the shallow bank, the river coming around his waist. Slicking his hair back, he smiled as she flipped her hair, laughing still. And then there was that mischievous glint, and she splashed water at him, and then Carver. Both men turned to splash back, and their laughter sang up to the canopy above, the birds flying away from the commotion.

_Forgot to mention in the last chapter: lj kink meme prompt: _

_Danarius leaves Fenris and the Fog Warriors don't find them. The Hawke clan does. Malcolm takes Fenris under his wing, Leandra mothers him, Carver bugs him to teach him the sword, Bethany heals him and Hawke teaches him to read. Wolves are not meant to run alone._

_Otherwise, I have very little say. Reviews appreciated, of course._


	3. Chapter 3

Day fourteen Fenris was laying in his hammock, one of his blankets tossed over the banister above him, to keep it out of the mud on the ground. When he heard the crash he shot up, head spinning around to Carver's laughter. He clumsily hopped out of the hammock, still awkward about the whole hammock thing. It was more of a bed than he had ever had, and it wasn't uncomfortable, but he still was clumsy about crawling in and out of it.

He made his way out to the side of the barn and stopped to watch as Carver gleefully crushed and destroyed pieces of ceramic. Carver stopped when he caught sight of him, holding the piece of ceramic before he could throw it. "Mindless destruction," Carver said, throwing the piece during the pause with a grin. "It's good for the soul."

Fenris glanced at all the pieces. "What are you doing?"

Carver shrugged. "Broken pieces of ceramics. Cups that we can't use anymore, or pieces Mama and Beth made that can't work. I'm enjoying their failure. A beautiful, destructive, silver lining." Carver shucked another piece before giving him another smile.

Fenris turned, hearing somebody else coming along. "Ma'am," he said bowing his head to Leandra as she walked over.

"Honestly Carver," she said with a gusty sigh, shaking her head. Carver glanced at her, and then again. He stopped, lowering his arm and the cup in his hand. "Always the rowdy one. And you, Fenris, have you ever made a tea cup?"

"No, ma'am."

"Carver can't. Would you like to give it a try?" Leandra asked. She had seemed to assimilated to his appearance the quickest, even though she had been the most reluctant. The three called it 'Mama Mode'. She often told him to eat more, called him too skinny, and liked to 'tsk' him about most anything. She also liked to touch his hair, but Marian did that too.

Fenris glanced at the ceramic pieces littering the mud. "You made these?"

"Yes. We make the clay, form it, and then burn them hard. Having two mages makes it so much easier, you see. It's actually our main resource for trade with the Fog Warriors. Bethany usually helps me. Marian can make some simple things. I often have her make cups, if we're desperate. Carver refuses to learn," she gave her son a glare, and the young man found a renewed vigor to find another piece to break, instead of looking back at his mother. "You're more than welcome to come try your hand, Fenris. Bethany should be about done making the clay. Or you could try weaving with us. Weaved baskets tend to go over well with the rebels as well." She began walking, leading the way, and Fenris followed, glancing back at Carver in time to catch the contorted , somewhat nasty expression he sent at his mother. A passive aggressive approach to showing his displeasure, for sure.

"I've tried so hard to make sure my children are cultured. But it's been so hard. I come from old money, you know, Fenris. From Kirkwall. But being in love with an apostate ruined that. And, I don't need money. But I hoped my children could at least have culture. But we have no resources. I try to teach them to sing, but there are no songs for them to relate to. I try to teach them to play, but we have no instruments. And those that we do break. I teach them to sew and they all complain."

Fenris glanced over at her. She wasn't much taller than him. She also still held herself like a fine noble lady. She reminded him of a magister, except she was so gentle in everything she did. "I am not the best judge, but I think you've raised them wonderfully. You are a beautiful, gentle mother." Not that he had anything to compare it to. He couldn't remember his own mother, but he had seen the other slaves raising their children sometimes.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Really? You are so sweet, dear." She cupped his cheek, and it was surprising how thankful she looked, and how much his words affected her. Her eyes shined as she looked at him. "Thank you." She let her hand drop and continued walking. Fenris swallowed hard, quickly following after her. He was so happy to have pleased her, and he wasn't sure if it was lasting effects of slavery or if it was the rewarding expression she gave him.

She made her way to the back of the shed, dragging out some sort of flat wheel. She grunted and Fenris quickly took hold and easily lifted it out and away. It was light, at least, for him. The lyrium was all Fenris could ever think of that gave him his unnatural strength. He was lithe, even for some elves. Unless they were malnourished, which most were. They were often even thinner than he. But even as compactly muscular as he was, he was stronger than he should be. Such as the swords he wielded, or pulling out stone flat wheels from the corner.

She gave him another smile that made him feel so very proud. "Thank you." She turned and made her way back out. "Our clay we get from the river. And that wheel is one of the most expensive thing we own, more or less. Most wheels you still have to turn yourself, leaving you only one hand to pinch and form the clay. Our wheel, after a few failed attempts from Malcom, uses some sort of mechanisms to turn the wheel by pushing the pedal. With the foot, of course. It's quite a nice change. Malcom said he saw one before, one time, when he ran off from the Circle. I grew up on the hand powered wheel. As will most people, still, for a while yet probably."

Fenris listened with full attention, glancing down at the very important wheel he carried with wide eyes. "Do you paint them as well?" he asked, glancing up. Mas- Danarius had many vases and tea cups and other beautiful ceramic pieces that were brightly painted.

"If only," she said with a gusty sigh. "I do miss the painting." She stared off dreamily for a moment, lost somewhere, Fernis figured. Then she seemed to realize herself and found the ground to be more interesting as she led the rest of the way. Fenris wondered what story she day dreamed about, or if it had be simply a memory of back when she lived in a world surrounded by luxury and spoiled.

Bethany was waiting for them with the collected clay, and Fenris set the potters wheel down as gently as he could. Bethany gave him a bright smile, moving the small stool to sit by the pedal. They had water which Leandra moved next to the wheel as well. "Sit. Sit!" Leandra said, waving the air. Fenris sat like a tailor, flinching and shielding himself when the blob of clay was plopped down on the wheel. "I'll go first, give you an idea. But then you can play." She beamed and him and then began working the pedal. She pinched, pulled, and pushed. She used some flat tools that she pulled carefully out of the soft cloth, making a beautiful stout teapot. She didn't add the handle, or the spout, but he could appreciate the perfect roundness of the actual teapot.

Fenris wasn't sure how long he had sat there, watching. But it was amazing. Her small beautiful hands worked the clay into perfection. The clay had started into such an ugly blob, and now it was a perfect piece of art. Almost, perhaps. It was gorgeous, and hollow, and she had worked it so amazingly. He turned up to her, his green eyes wide with awe. "Now, I'll work on the rest of this pretty little teapot, and you can make something." She rose slowly. She smiled at him and slowly picked up the teapot to move it. She clumped up her own clay, he watched, and started molding it into a decorative lid.

Fenris himself moved with a sort of timid grace to sit on the stool. Bethany herself had found some of her own block, making something. A sculpture perhaps. Fenris wasn't sure. Leandra glanced up, and then to the clay and back. Fenris took the hint. He scooped up some of the clay and began trying to work it. It was awkward, and the clay flew out more than was molded. Leandra was done with the lid of her teapot, and the base, long before he'd done anything with the clay. "What are you trying to make, dear?" Leandra asked.

Fenris glanced up at her and shrugged, keeping his eyes behind the curtain of white hair.

"Well, then, figure that out first." She smiled happily. "Whatever you want to make, dear. I'll go get something to drink, and you think it through."

When she was gone, Bethany moved to sit beside him, dribbling water over his mess. "Mama loves her pottery. And don't feel bad. She always let's you play before she starts instructions. Even when she was trying to teach Marian to sing, and Carver to play the mandolin." She pushed her dark curls back with her wrist. "I don't miss those days."

"Marian can sing?"

"She is not bad. She isn't a bard though. Carver is more musically inclined than either me or Mari. Mari was very good at musical instruments though. Rogue fingers, I think." She wiggled her fingers at him, as if he didn't know what fingers were. "She never seemed to really enjoy it though."

Fenris slowly worked the pedal, looking from it to her and back. "And you?"

"I'm too much like mama." Bethany shrugged, smiling. "I love the arts. I love listening about her past in Kirkwall, as an Amell. I love imagining dances, parties, and beautiful paintings. I want to sew gorgeous pillows, and I want to wear actual dresses. But, we live in Seheron. And we always will. Because I'm a mage."

"The rest of Thedas condemns mages," Fenris said. "Is that why you live in Seheron?"

"Yes. It's not Tevinter, where we would be poor mages, and thus we'd be treated like trash. It's not anywhere else where the Chantry would want to lock me up." She paused. "With my father," she said, as an after thought maybe. "So we live out here, in the jungle, so far away from civilization. Any real civilization, dancing with the Qunari and the Magisters."

"And the Fog Warriors."

"True. Economically, we always are dancing with them." She smiled happily. "If you want a tip, before Mama comes back- don't push so hard on the clay. And definitely be more gentle when you pinch."

Fenris wanted to say something about the fact that he was not by nature gentle. He had never, as long as he could remember, had a need to be gentle. That was not a priority when Ma- Danarius was training him. But he nodded. He wanted to make something relatively nice. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to be able to make anything like what Leandra made. But he wanted to... please. Licking his dry lips, he tried to turn his attention back to the clay. Bethany smiled, turning back to her own sculpture as well.

Leandra sat beside the wheel, giving him pointers. She was a good teacher. She had her own project, and didn't sweat over his own fumbling. She was gentle when she put her hand over his. It took too long in Fenris's opinion, but he eventually had a pretty little tea cup. He wasted a lot of the clay, and he was covered in it, but it was a tea cup. It looked like a tea cup, and it was smooth and even. He beamed over at her, and she smiled back up at him. "Very good," she said, and it made Fenris feel like he had won the world.

_Nothing much to say about this either. I had a hard time writing Fenris. I remembered that. Because he's such an inbetween for this whole story. Not quite our broody elf, but not a slave either. So that was a struggle. As well as getting everybody's characters. First time writing Bethany and Carver- and Malcom (who came out more like Anders than I wanted at the time. But I liked him and decided I didn't want to change him.) _

_Anyway, reviews appreciated._


	4. Chapter 4

Day twenty Fenris was relieving himself away from the home when he spotted the Qunari nearing the family. They did not have the warpaint, and some had even sawed of their horns, but they were Qunari and Fenris was quick to run back to Malcom. He was a blur of white and blue as he ran, coming into the clearing and stopping to see the five heads all raised to give him a curious look. "Qunari march this way," he said, finally.

Malcom's mouth thinned in his displeasure. "The army? I've heard nothing of an expedition. The Teviniters haven't returned."

"They were small in numbers. They did not wear their warpaint," Fenris said and was shocked to see the rest slowly relax.

"And horns sawed off? Yes. They are the Tal-Vashoth, Fenris. They are those that have denied their placement under the Qun. Denied the Qun, as it were. They are similar to the Fog Warriors. We trade a lot less with them, however. They travel around the island, being a general nuisance for the Arishok and Ariqun. Sometimes the Arigena too, if they're being particularly tenacious." Malcom wiped his hands, walking over and resting one comfortingly on Fenris's shoulder. "No need for worry."

He turned in time to catch his staff, more a spear, from Carver who hopped down from the porch. His own sword in hand. Marian and Bethany emerged after him, all four still in wraps. Marian stopped when they walked passed him, nodding towards Leandra. "Watch Mama for us?"

Bethany stood with the elder woman, a spear of her own in hand. Fenris nodded, walking back. They didn't go far, and both the ladies were at ease. It was likely just a precaution. But Fenris found he took it seriously, keeping himself between the two and the Qunari- or Tal-Vashoth? They saw themselves as different, at any rate. Did that make them so, Fenris wondered. Did thinking you were free, make you free?

They walked in and Malcom and the Tal-Vashoth in the front began speaking. The giant horned man's voice filled the entire clearing, but his baritone voice too low for Fenris to make out too many words. Leandra was preoccupied with sewing up some of Carver's pants, and Bethany simply sat tailor style, bobbing her head to a song only she could hear. Marian and Carver were whispering to each other behind Malcom until the Tal-Vashoth produced their wares for trading.

Both of them elbowed and shouldered each other, grinning as they tried to one do each other. Malcom walked over, still speaking to the large man. Malcom finally slapped them both over their heads and they scurried off to get what they'd trade with the Tal-Vashoth, racing each other towards the shed. Fenris watched as they emerged, glancing from them to Bethany. "They'll grow up, eventually." Bethany said with a shrug. He smirked back at her, hiding behind his hair.

Fenris wasn't sure how long they stayed. Marian carried out tea for the Tal-Vashoth, Leandra even speaking to one or two. There were no women in the group and Bethany explained that women stayed somewhere safe. Fenris nodded, understanding now why they looked at Marian with those barely concealed glares. He glanced back to find her holding her father's arm, smiling and murmuring up at him. Then she glanced at him and quickly back to Malcom.

The man glanced over and gave him one of his calm smiles that seemed to mean he knew everything. Fenris glanced between the two, and then Malcom nodded. Marian laughed, rushing over to him. "C'mon!" she said, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. "We're going shopping." His deadpanned expression had her in a fit of giggles as she pulled him back to the Tal-Vashoth.

Fenris glared up at all the Tal-Vashoth as they glared down at him. "You're better now, and we thought it time you start being able to defend yourself," she said, bumping her hip against his and pointing to the weapons. He glanced back at her. "That's right. Our gift to you. Pick a weapon," she said.

"And some leather, Fenris. It'd be quite a shame for you to go wielding a blade in a skirt."

Fenris glanced down at his wrap before glaring at Malcom. The older man just chuckled. Carver was there, trying to be helpful probably. Pointing to some of the broadswords for him. Fenris completely tuned him out, running his hands over the weapons to find the one he liked. He swallowed hard, trying to figure out the prices. He dared not try to make it expensive. Especially if they were going to buy leather armor for him too.

"Well?" Marian said, sounding a little confused. Her eyes were trailing to the great swords he was making his way towards. "Really?" she said, honey brown eyes wide as she glanced back and up.

Fenris found one that appeared well made, balanced. In fact, most at the end were. He reached for the hilt, glancing up the the Tal-Vasoth who simply nodded. Fenris pulled the sword up, twisting it gracefully between himself and Marian. Facing away and holding the sword out, testing the balance. He stepped forward where the was room and easily went through the rounds. It was pleasant to hold a sword again. Natural, easy, familiar. He almost smiled as he swung around, turning and listening to the whistling of the blade.

Breathing deeply he lowered the blade, staring at it's beauty until he realized how silent everything was. He turned and saw everybody, even the Tal-Vashoth. He felt his blood rise, hiding behind his hair. "You swung that? Gracefully!" Marian said, voicing everybody's line of thought most likely.

He nodded his head. Leandra was the one to stand up for him. "He carried the wheel around too. He's stronger than he looks," she said, and Fenris realized she was a little less amazed than the rest. And smiling encouragingly to him, oddly enough.

"That is so- wow!" Marian said, and Bethany was mumbling agreements. Carver just stood, jaw dropped, and Malcom was laughing. "Carver works his ass off to be able to wield those swords!"

Fenris had the idea that he had been talented before the lyrium tattoos had taken everything from him. Probably not with the giant claymores though. It was something else that made him impressive, unique. That was why he was trained with them, instead of anything else. He would have preferred to have wielded anything else- anything he chose to. But it didn't matter. And he wouldn't tell them that. Especially since Carver picked his jaw up off the floor and snarled at Marian.

The two began going at it, moving from Carver's lack of talent- no, proper training, the young man had talent- to them betting who would win at an arm wrestling contest. Fenris glanced between both of them, still shocked at how easily the two went for the snide arguments and very low blows to the ego. He only turned to Malcom when the older man began bartering. Fenris carried the blade back, listening intently. He needed to know what they were giving up to give him this.

But they spoke quickly, each interrupting the other for the price they wanted. It was settled in the end for all the leathers and the sword for three pigs. Fenris was rather sure that was still very expensive for the Hawke family. The sword was of fine make and it seemed the Tal-Vashoth knew it. Fenris watched as they handed over the hard leathers. That was the end of it. The Tal-Vashoth finished with their wares, packed up and continued their trek across the island. They would likely hit the Fog Warriors next to trade with. Apparently they were also where most of the Fog Warriors got their superior weapons.

Fenris turned back with a start when Malcom fought a cough. Malcom glanced up through his hair, pulling his arm away and smiling. "For living on Seheron for so long, I still can't say I can handle the dust sometimes." Fenris nodded, taking the leathers he passed him with a smile. Malcom patted his shoulder, moving to pull Marian and Carver apart, who had began to tussel. It had started with an arm wrestling, and somehow escalated to the two of them trying to break each others arms to now smashing each other's faces in. It seemed they grew more frenzied as Malcom neared, knowing it was going to end soon enough.

Leandra huffed as the two were dragged apart, Malcom grabbing and twisting their ears to keep them from attacking each other and pay attention to him. "Come on you two. We've still got work to do today." Their squeals and apologies were half hearted and mostly likely just for the old man's benefit. Leandra shook her head ruefully before giving him a bright smile. A bright, thoughtful smile. Fenris stared back until she nodded her head, coming to her own conclusion, and walked back to their hut. To say Fenris wasn't intrigued would have been a lie. But it wasn't his place to question her. He turned back to help with the labor.

The rest of the day was so normal that Fenris didn't realize the sun had begun it's descent, the sky turning into a watercolor painting of oranges and yellows, until Marian declared that dinner was really really late and that wasn't acceptable by her high standards. Carver pushed her into the mud for the statement before rushing to the hut. Fenris guessed it was more because she had gotten in the last hit, the two still trying to harm the other during the whole day. Fenris was washing off the dirt and grime, smirking when Carver was kicked out of the hut for being as dirty as the pigs and told to go clean up. Marian quickly just doused herself, sticking her tongue out at Carver as she patted herself dry with an old wrap. The heat in Seheron meant they all dried quickly. She was the first in, beside Bethany who helped with dinner.

"Stupid, controlling bitch," Carver mumbled, grabbing the bucket to wash off the mud and dirt. Fenris eyed him. Perhaps in a different environment, Carver would have honestly disliked his sister's approach. Fenris could see that. A place where Carver could have choices, and perhaps had more consequences to his actions. There, Fenris could see Carver disliking the close knit of the family, the way his sister was protective and controlling. He could see Carver wanting to be independent, to face his own consequence to his own actions and choices. But here, in Seheron, where there was nothing but his family, Fenris didn't believe those words.

But Fenris did not say anything. He always watched, had never the right to interact, and had grown accustomed to judging people for their actions more than their words. In Tevinter, words meant nothing. They just filled the empty space. Here, Fenris could be wrong. Here, Carver could have meant his words. Fenris finished patting himself dry, folding the towel. "Hey, Fenris," Carver said, hushed surprisingly. The elf glanced around, finding Malcom walking towards their storage hut. He turned back to Carver. "Do you think you could," he struggled for the words a bit, glowering at the mud, "maybe help me some. With my sword, that is. Wielding it," he clarified.

Fenris glanced at him, eyes wide. But Carver was asking, almost pleading without looking so pitiful. He gave a quick nod. This he was definitely not used to. "I will."

"Thanks. Da looks like he wants to talk to you." Carver slapped him on the back congenially and jogged off to their home. Fenris walked over to Malcom. The man smiled, lighting a pipe as he waited. Fenris stared at the storage hut before glancing back him him. Worry edged at the fringes of his consciousness.

"Looks like you're finally all better," Malcom said. It was true. Fenris didn't wear the bandages anymore. He wasn't even sore. The magic and salves had been quick to work. Too quick, Fenris thought, fighting the frown. "And how long have you been here? My age is finally catching up to me," the man said with a hearty laugh and a shake of his head. Then his smile turned almost sad, but his pipe hid it well. Fenris was just adept at finding them. Years of doing nothing but watching people, he thought.

"Twenty days," Fenris said finally and probably too quietly. He tried not to show is disappointment, his fear. He could be wrong. But buying him armor and a sword. Mentioning this. They were ready for him to leave. It made sense. Why would they want him to stay?

"Almost a full month huh? And without any healing magic, you're all cured. Amazing, my boy," Malcom said, the bittersweet expression gone.

"It was probably the fishing," Fenris said, keeping his eyes hidden behind his hair.

"And the sweet tea. Seheron is very well known for the tea, you know. Well, the spices and tea and whatnot. Really though, you're right. Mostly the fishing." Malcom puffed on the pipe again, formulating his gentle let down probably. Fenris steeled himself.

Letting the smoke drift, Malcom glanced back at the storage hut. "We need to get your hammock," he said finally, and Fenris's eyes snapped. That was gentle? "And you're belongings I think." He nodded, smirking at him.

"What?"

"Out of our storage hut."

"I... yes. I'll get them."

"Good. We'll put them with Carver's things. He'll just have to finally share." He puffed again, thoughtfully. "And you're more lithe than Carver is, so your hammock will go above his. You can borrow the girls' stool to climb in until we make you one of your own. Marian still has sharing issues. Comes with those two years of having no siblings I'm sure."

"I... don't understand."

Malcom laughed. "Leandra and I spoke a bit, and we wanted to ask if you wanted to become a part of the family, Fenris."

Fenris stared at him, jaw slack for a long moment. Malcom waited patiently, failing at hiding his amusement behind his pipe. Before he could answer, Malcom spoke again. "Though, I give you fair warning. The nice thing to do. Leandra had been absolutely dying to cut your hair. She hates that it hides your eyes. She's been itching to cut mine and Carver's as well. But Carver is letting his grow. Some Fog Warrior fashion or something." He shrugged. "So? Now, you don't have to decide now-"

"Yes!" Fenris quickly calmed himself, face flushing with embarrassment, saying and not yelling his answer a second time. "I mean, yes, please."

Malcom laughed. "Well then, my boy, go get your hammock and things, and we'll go ruin Carver's night by telling him he'll have to share his corner now." Fenris nodded eagerly, running inside the storage. This was his home.

"Home," he said, stopping as he gripped the hammock. It felt wonderful and beautiful to say it out loud. To say it and think of some place warm, inviting, with people that cared for him. Smiled at him. "Home. This is home," he said again, pulling the hammock and blankets, stacking them with the leather and sword. He didn't have to count anymore. It didn't matter. He was going to be here for so much longer, he thought, smiling broadly as he exited the storage hut.

_More of Malcom, who I very much enjoyed writing during this story. He's wordy and probably a bit of a jerk (or had been in his youth) but he's got a heart of gold. Fun to write._

_Anyway, reviews are loved._


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris glanced up from the book. Marian had been distracted lately. She chewed on her nail, honey eyes trailing off into the darkness of the jungle surrounding them. They had been reading since he had moved into the hut. When dinner was finished, before, he had slipped away to the storage hut. After moving in he sat on the porch, and she had walked out as well, book in hand. Somehow it had moved from that companionable silence to her reading to him, to finally her trying to teach him.

She had dug through old trunks that Leandra had smuggled in from Kirkwall, finding the child's books of fables that was used to teach the three Hawke children. They used that instead of the the Chant of Light that she was often stuck with. They only had two books, and Marian was often left to re read the chant. Which, after speaking to her, Fenris was shocked to realize she was not that religious. Perhaps only reading the Chant was a hindrance to her faith. Fenris wasn't sure.

But for the last couple of sunsets she had drifted off. Fenris scowled, thumbing the page. He had already stormed off the first time she had dozed off during the lesson. His temper tantrum made him cringe, still. He had dropped the book and stomped off. She had watched him go, and some part of him- the largely selfish part- wanted her to chase him. He wanted her to chase him and he wanted to yell at her and he was ashamed to admit that the fact that she didn't angered him even more.

He had taken the anger out on Carver the next day. He and Carver had been practicing during the early mornings, away from the heat. Carver had talent, but no training. He was slow and left too many openings. It made training brutal. Fenris didn't know how to teach any way except to keep hitting until Carver learned to block. That morning Carver limped to Bethany for healing. Bethany had pursed her lips at him as she healed her brother, and Fenris could only scowl back at her. Bethany ignored him the rest of the day, and Marian was busy with her father. Carver limped through his chores, and Leandra remained inside like she did on overly hot days.

All of which left Fenris feeling left out and even a little guilty. As sun down grew near he grew tenser. It wasn't until he was sitting on the porch, and Marian walked out with the book and some tea that he suddenly felt so very relieved. She didn't say anything, but leaned towards him and began the shaky lesson. Fenris probably should have gone to Leandra, or Malcom, should he have really wanted to learn to read. But to have the quiet moments alone with Marian, or mostly alone, meant so much to Fenris. He didn't know that before he had thought they would stop because of his outburst, but he knew now. That was what mattered, in the end.

With all three of the Hawke children, Fenris knew he had to still develop the relationship. He had come in too late, too old, for them to accept him readily as family. He was young enough to easily fall into 'child' for Leandra and Malcom. He looked and felt probably as old as Marian. But he was never going to be 'brother' to the three. He knew this, and perhaps that was why he panicked with Marian. There was nothing to fall back on should he offend her. Hurt her.

But because of that he didn't want to storm off again. It felt even more childish to do so again. He thumbed the page of the book, the story something about a vain fox. He only knew that because she had read it to him before. He was still working on sounds and letters. She realized he had stopped speaking and turned back to him, eyes wide. "Sorry," she mumbled, dropping her hand into her lap so she could pick at her nails like she usually did when things grew awkward. He slowly turned his eyes back to the page.

Even with her attention turned to him, she seemed to lack the energy to actually teach. It wasn't just with him either, he began to notice. At dinner, during chores, she had began to shut herself in. Fenris didn't learn why until Malcom asked him to go fishing again.

Fenris sat on the rock, flicking his wrist and watching the pole and string. Malcom, Fenris was realizing, was also down on energy. He seemed heavier and he smiled less. He even seemed to talk less. Fenris hadn't thought it possible. But he had not noticed. The others just seemed to fill the void that he had created. Fenris swallowed hard, trying to think what could possibly be bothering both Marian and Malcom.

He gripped the pole tighter, scowling at the water as if it was at fault. Malcom glanced over at Fenris finally, lowering the cup from his lips. "I hear you got in a fight," he said.

"I- no. Not really," Fenris said. It didn't count as a fight if he stormed off did and she did nothing did it?

Malcom finally smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It was my fault," he said finally, the smile slowly disappearing. "I shouldn't have told Marian."

"What?" Malcom had a way of steering a conversation as if everybody was playing with a full deck, when really he was the only one holding any cards. It wouldn't have been horrible if Malcom didn't know that he was leading everybody on and confusing them until his 'punchline'.

"I shouldn't of told- she'd probably of figured out something was wrong." Malcom rubbed his eyes. "Leandra knows. I had to tell Marian- and now you. I am selfish and didn't- don't want to tell people. Everybody I've told seems to have figured out something was wrong."

Fenris didn't want to mention that he hadn't noticed anything was wrong with him until just now. But, mentioning it, Fenris noticed he looked withered. Eyes a bit sunken in, thinner. Fenris hadn't noticed. Mages were always thin to him. Unlike Bethany, who was curvy, and Malcom, who used to be so wiry and muscular. There was the coughing too, Fenris realized, thinking back to dinners and chores.

"I'm terribly sick," Malcom said, eyes distant and somewhere far away. "I do not know with what. But I am terribly sick. I will die, soon."

"No!" Fenris nearly dropped the fishing pole into the water as he turned to face him. Instead he spilled the tea, the pot shattering against the hard stone. Fenris jumped, glancing at him to the pieces. "I'm- I mean- you can't die."

Malcom just smiled, shaking his head. "We don't get much of a choice there, Fenris. Will can only save you so much."

"You are too important! I-" Fenris turned away from him, hiding behind his hair, gritting his teeth.

"The funny thing is, everybody else is so much more worried about my death, than I am." Malcom laughed, almost bitterly. "Death is only another moment in my life."

Fenris searched his face, reading everything he could from it. "You want to?"

"The pain is becoming unbearable. I'm so much weaker than I used to be. I'm not sure I can trust my magic anymore. I'm not going to be able to hide it from Carver and Bethany soon."

"Pain?"

"I excuse myself somewhere else. Marian goes with me now. Leandra is... too soft for it," Malcom said, staring down at his cup now. "I love Leandra for her gentle touch, for her noble beauty, for so much. But she is not strong. I only wish I could live long enough to keep some of the weight from Marian's shoulders. I am not sure I will, Fenris."

Fenris was going to say something, and he really wasn't sure what. Probably nothing that would help. But Malcom had a coughing fit. It started off just a simple wheeze and ended up a hacking cough that shook the mage's entire frame. Fenris awkwardly watched, hands held up as he tried to figure out what to do. His eyebrows furrowed deep, teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. Then he stopped and Fenris was able to gain the courage to rest a heavy hand on his shoulder. Malcom remained hunched over for a long moment before he straightened, giving him a smile. It still didn't reach his eyes. Eyes that used to be so brilliant.

Fenris glanced down as Malcom reached for his tea cup and saw the blood wiped on the wrap, under the flap where it should not have been seen. His chest constricted, his throat tightened as he stared at what could not be denied. The blood was not words. Words could be fake, a mistake. Fenris began to shake. "I just wanted you to know," Malcom said, voice hoarse now. "I wanted you to know it's not Marian's fault. She's such a strong girl. But she tries to carry too much."

Fenris thought back to his outburst, and understanding now, he flinched harder. "I will apologize."

"She understands. She's a smart girl. You don't have to." Malcom finally turned his eyes back on Fenris, watching him from behind the thinning blonde hair. "I'm not going to be here anymore soon, though. And I think not being able to protect my family is going to be my greatest struggle with this whole death thing. Seheron is beautiful, but it is not safe."

Fenris heard the unspoken question. "I will protect them," he said, without much thought.

Malcom smiled at him. "You're a good boy Fenris. I'm happy to call you my son." Fenris felt his heart stop, break, and with a clenched jaw let the tears fall.

Weeks later the fire crackled, dancing mysteriously as it burned and twisted around the corpse of Malcom Hawke. Leandra couldn't stand, her legs curled beneath her, Bethany laying in her lap and nearly wailing. Carver had tried to remain strong but he broke down. Marian wrapped her arms around him, his head resting under her chin, and she slowly rocked him back and forth. Her tears were silent, though Fenris did not miss her whimpers.

Leandra was holding his hand as she ran the other through Bethany's hair. He wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or her own, but Fenris clung to that hand. He wasn't used to crying. Not like that. He had cried because of the pain- and he'd been in so much pain that he couldn't even cry. But what he was feeling there, in the mud and staring at the flames that consumed a man that became him father, there were no words. Fenris was eloquent for a slave. He had been surrounded by the Tevinter Magisters for most of his life. He knew so many words. But he couldn't find one to describe the heavy sadness, the pain in his heart. He could not imagine the pain of the others.

As the fire died down Marian herded them back inside. She bustled around, pouring the tea and making the dinner. The conversation turned to Malcom, and slowly there were chuckles and smiles from the happy memories. Fenris listened closely, wanting to learn about his new family.

"Remember, the twins were about four, and Malcom took you all out to catch tadpoles during the rainy season? Carver, you fell down the bank and it turned into an impromptu swimming lesson. I was so scared, but Malcom just tossed you all into the river."

"I remember 'Ma and Da' nights. I had to take the twins out and you guys had the houses to yourself. Da made us that swing for us because we were so good."

"Every birthday he'd make some magic color things in the air. Every year, the best present was at night when he'd sit us all down and light up the sky."

Fenris watched them all speak about birthdays, getting lost, and weird pets Malcom let them keep. Out of all of it, Fenris was amazed to hear about the little things. He had been told about Malcom's escape from the Gallows in Kirkwall with the help of a Templar. He heard about him marrying Leandra and learning she was pregnant while he was smuggling her to Seheron. But the little moments were what captivated Fenris. As well as the idea that they could laugh and cry at the same time. All of them were so open.

Except Marian who still seemed stuck in herself. She kept her posture straight, stiff. She spoke quietly still, and only said enough to please the others. It made Fenris think of the sick Malcom. It terrified him. The twins crawled off to bed and Leandra dozed off as she stared into the fire. Fenris watched Marian slip away in a roguish fashion. Making sure Leandra was fine, Fenris followed after her. He was slow to approach her near the pyre. She sat on her haunches, dragging a finger through the ash.

When he sat down beside her she jumped and glanced at him. "Fenris, hey," she said, eyes dropping back. "You okay?" she asked.

Frowning, he said, "Are you?"

She gave him a small smile. "I will be." She leaned back, falling back onto her butt, stretching her legs a bit and resting her chin on her knees. "For all the time I had to get used to the idea of Da dying, it still hurts."

"Do you wish it had been a surprise?"

"No." She gave a small laugh. "You've never lost somebody before, Fenris?"

"Not that I can remember."

She gave him a curious look. He had never told them about his lost memories. It had never come up, really. None of them seemed to like talking about his past, except perhaps Marian. Even she didn't push for anything, though. But her brown honey gaze was level with him. "I don't know, never losing somebody would be nice. But at the same time, knowing that my father lived such a life, meant this much to me- I think that's such a good thing. I want to celebrate how he lived. I guess life, relationships, wouldn't be as sacred if there wasn't such a limited time on it."

"You don't wish you were immortal?"

"No." She wiped at her eyes. "I heard about you elfs and how you guys used to have it. I heard about how they just got tired of life and went to sleep under a tree. They all just decided they were bored with life. How horrible does that sound?" She laughed and choked at the same time, pulling her knees tighter.

"You enjoy this pain?"

"Yeah. It's a good kind of pain. I mean, instead of trying to wish Da back, I want to celebrate what he was. It's sad because he's gone, but look at what he left us. I won't deny it saddens me, but I won't let this be my burden."

"He is the only one you've lost, hasn't he?"

"No. I've lost Thunder and Grimm. Two monkeys I had as pets. And the Fog Warriors. I know so many of them. I've seen so many funerals of theirs. Many of them with no bodies to burn on the pyre. Da was just the first family to die."

"I hadn't realized so many people died."

"Everybody dies." She smiled at him, through the tears. "Everybody has to go at some time. Maybe because of death, maybe because different choices. But everybody goes, and you can only hope at some point you'll see them again. The real question is, what do you do when your with them."

"You're far to optimistic for somebody talking about death," Fenris grumbled.

Marian laughed. Then she reached over and pulled at his arm until she could hold his hand. Stretching out she scooted over and rested her head against his shoulder. He stiffened, staring at her hair. "If I don't smile all the sadness will definitely kill me. Life sucks." He jerked to stare at her. "It's up to us to make it worth living." She snuggled closer, laughing at his expression. It took a little bit, but Fenris slowly relaxed beside her. People, Fenris realized, were strange. Her way of mourning was odd. Carver's way of loving was odd. Bethany's strength was odd. Buf Fenris also realized he loved their oddities, no matter how they annoyed and confounded him.

_So a little more on Mari Hawke. I've always enjoyed characters that were optimistic in the not whole 'annoyingly chipper bouncing around and acting like they're ten' way. It's almost like they're downers when really their optimistic, I guess. I don't know if that even makes sense. Just like I love Carver's gruff way of loving his family. I'd say Bethany's inner strength- emotional and what not, but I didn't actually get that from the game. I have to imagine she was supposed to had it. Bethany always did see like the 'delicate mage flower' Carver bitches about all the time. Anders, Merrill, Hawke, all of them are anything but really. Bethany however seemed like she would break. But I guess she does (is forced by the game) to endure being a Grey Warden, so she has to have something somewhere. I'm pulling at strings here, really, for poor Bethany. I want to like her, I do. There just isn't anything there to like (or dislike) really.  
><em>

_Reviews are appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris nodded his head in praise when Carver efficiently blocked his attack. Carver's smile was bright and in his excitement he made a mistake. Fenris easily dropped past his guard and struck at his ribs. Carver grunted and stumbled back, cursing under his breath. Fenris let him get out of range, lowering his own blade and rolling his shoulder. His eyes traveled to the east where Marian had walked off to speak to some Fog Warriors.

She had easily fell into the place as head of the household. She spoke to the Fog Warriors that came by, or she went to them. She made sure all the chores were finished by nightfall. She was early to rise and late to bed. She hadn't changed, her smile losing the hint of saddness it had. She made time for his reading, to give Bethany her shoulder to cry on, for verbal sparring with Carver. The only one who seemed to still be taking the death hard was Leanrdra. Fenris glanced up at the hut to glance at her sitting on the porch. Bethany had told him that it would just take a little longer for her to patch herself back up.

Wiping at the sweat on his brow he turned back to Carver. The young man was leaning on his sword eyeing the water waiting for them in the shade. Fenris gave a nod and they both walked over, Carver holding his sides tenderly. Bethany looked up from her folding the laundry, raising her eyebrow in question. Carver shook his head, waving it away. The sat beside each other in the shade, in silence. It was a languid day, as it often was. Fenris let his eyes drift shut as he leaned back.

Bethany had put away the laundry and was sitting with Leandra, neither he nor Carver moved, when Marian came back. Everybody was startled as she flew over the foliage, crashing into the clearing. She almost flew with her frenzy, stumbling in her landing and gasping for air. When she stopped stumbling she straightened and they could all see the blood dribbling down the side of her head. Fenris was standing in front of her in an instant, the lyrium tattoos glowing as he tried to figure out what to do. She didn't smile at him, he noticed.

"Get your leathers on!" she yelled between breaths. "Tevinters are here attacking the Fog Warriors, and too damn close for comfort! Pack up!" She eyed him for a moment before walking past towards the water. Carver hoisted himself up to the porch, disappearing after his twin and mother into the house.

She continued to gasp for air after gulping down the water. He gently reached up to the blood that matted her hair. "Go get your leathers on Fenris. We got to get moving. I don't want to be here if the Tevinter army stumbles in." Fenris flinched at the thought of his old life. He could feel the hate, again, welling up inside him. He had almost forgotten. There were no mirrors here, no pain. He had almost forgotten about it all.

"You-" he growled, despising the way the hate and fear swelled back to life to easily.

"Will be fine. Carver's done worse to me. Go get changed and help them pack. I'll keep watch." She turned away from him and walked towards the foliage again, slowly unsheathing one dagger as she did so. Fenris swallowed hard, wishing the feelings away as he turned and entered the hut. Leandra was packing the bags, looking ready to cry, as Bethany and Carver rushed into the hardened leather. Their lack of modesty still astounded him, even then. Hiding behind his hair, fighting the blush, he reached for his armor behind Carver. Bethany was dressed first, her armor lighter than Carver's. She began to help packing.

They were running within minutes. Marian was in front, gracefully dancing across the rocks and roots. Bethany remained beside Leandra, helping her. Carver brought up the rear, leaving Fenris to try and keep up with Marian.

Marian led them up to some cliffs. She made her way around and up until they found a cave. She leaned against the edge, quietly gasping for air, face flushed as she waved them all back into the cave. Instead of following after them she sat on her haunches at the edge, arms on her knees as she scanned the trees. There was an explosion that made them all jump. Everybody except Marian, who snarled like the large cats. "Fucking Magisters," she hissed, eyes stuck on the billowing smoke.

Bethany whimpered, pulling at the bags as Carver dropped his. "Explosions and fires, and we're running out to hide."

"It's not our fight."

"That you speaking, Mari, or are you just impersonating Da?" Carver sneered.

"Stopping being such a nagging tit, Carver. You'd be a roast long before you killed somebody."

"Oh and you wouldn't? The great Marian!"

She looked over her shoulder, teeth bared and ready to snarl something before her mouth clicked shut and she went back to watched the jungle for intruders. The blood had long dried, her hair matted. The sweat had to sting, Fenris thought.

Carver was going to say something, but Leandra beat him to it. "Silence! I'll not have you- any of you fighting! Against the Tevinters, the Qunari, and assuredly not against each other! You are my babies! I'll not lose you too!" She looked ready to cry.

Carver growled but did as he was told. All of them began setting up the little cave. "Mari," Bethany said. Marian glanced back and Bethany tossed the small bag at her. Marian easily looped it over her shoulder as she stood. "Come back soon," Bethany said. Marian nodded and began hopping down to the trees.

"What-"

"She's setting traps," Carver growled.

"You can go help if you want," Bethany said, wiping at her eyes. "We have this covered." Fenris nodded and was quick to chase after Marian Anything to get away from all the tension and fear. His own anger, his own gut wrenching fear wouldn't help Carver or Bethany. It wouldn't help Marian either, but at least it wasn't as stifling out of the cave.

She wasn't as far ahead as he had thought. She had slowed down considerably. It was behind her, when she didn't know anybody was watching, that he saw the way she tenderly held her side and slouched. Her steps were graceful still, if not a bit awkward. Worry took precedent over all the other feelings and he rushed to her, not trying to remain quiet. She instantly straightens, a hand on the daggers on her back as she turns. Seeing him she lets her hand fall back down. "Fenris?"

"You should have had your wounds cared for," Fenris said. He still could not condone magic. As much as he liked Bethany, as good as she was, he could not tell Marian to endure healing magic. Especially not with Magisters so close, haunting him.

"I told you I would be fine. It's just some bad bruising I'm sure. I'll be okay." She turned away from him, scowling.

"That is not good enough!" Fenris almost yelled, stopping her. She glanced over her shoulder. "You have to take care of yourself," he said, almost stammering. How did he tell her that she was the rock and pillar of the household. That if she fell he was near certain everything he'd built his life upon would crumble. With Malcom gone, the Magisters there, the ends were fraying, the seams pulled taut of what held him together. Not to mention the small budding of something warm and beautiful he had when she was near and close. Leandra, Bethany, Carver- they might have been able to drag themselves to respond. But that wouldn't be enough. They needed her. He needed her. How could he tell her that?

"It's not about me, Fenris," she said quietly, shoulders sagging. "It's about you. And them" she waved her hand back in the direction of the cave "and keeping them as safe as you all can be."

"You cannot fight for them-"

"It's not about fighting- fine. You know what- Fine. It's about my fucking mistake, Fenris. Alright? The Magister's personal army was marching through close to home. Just at the edge of the Fog Warriors territory. And I panicked. They caught sight of me and I- the fucking Magister hit me with something fierce. Or tried to. I dodged the main blow and got hit by the edge of it. And I flew into a tree. I was panicked and scared- I am so scared. And I- Fuck me." She ran her hand through her disheveled hair. "I ran and they were almost able to keep up. Some of them. I lost them though, some of the traps caught them. I almost led them right to Ma and the twins and you. Alright? They can't know that. I can't have them panicking. I can't- I couldn't- fuck. That Magister is there in our clearing now because I led them to it."

Fenris frowned. He wanted to comfort her. He hadn't realized how scared she was. Out of everybody the one person he hadn't thought to worry about was her. She had been a bit panicked, but with the circumstances that wasn't unusual. She held a certain amount of calm. He had worried about himself, the others. As had they, he realized. Nobody thought to worry about her. How easily Leandra let her take the reigns, to carry this weight. Malcoms words rung in his head briefly before he realized he had to say something.

But he had missed his chance. "Listen, it- I'll be fine. I'll take a look after we get the traps set. You can help if it makes you feel better. Now come on. I'll show you how to set them up and then you can go do it over by the wall so if they get past mine we have some extra defenses for Ma."

He nodded, trying to get her to look at him. It was a lost cause though. She kept her eyes on her hands as she laid the first trap, stretching the wires and metal until they were hidden and deadly. When he walked off with his own sets he glanced back to see her disappearing farther into the jungle. Things were changing, Fenris realized, and he blamed the Magisters for it.

Back in the cave Fenris glanced up, his sleep terribly light, and he saw Carver staring out into the wild. It was the early morning and Carver looked tense. Apprehension instantly filled Fenris. He grabbed his sword and glanced at the others. Bethany was curled around Marian. Leandra was wrapped in blankets, farther back. Carver glanced back, and in that instant they heard the traps start going off. Marian was awake in an instant, pushing Bethany behind her. Leandra snapped up, eyes so wide. Fenris was at the edge beside Carver, frantically searching for the Magister.

Instead his personal army bustled out, coughing against the poison gas and then all of them spun around to see the small explosion from another potent trap Marian had set up. Marian appeared at Carver's other side, daggers drawn. She glanced at Carver before turning and slowly making her way down, taking a way around the traps Fenris laid. Fenris moved quicker then Carver, needing to see. His mouth dry, his breathing ragged, he tried to see into the darkness.

The army stopped, staring at all of them. "We ain't got anything for any of you," Marian said eyes traveling to the back where the Magister would be coming. "If fact, I'm not sure we have enough for ourselves at this point. So if all of you could just move along, I won't even ask for you to apologize for the traps you just ruined."

"Well now, if you kind folks are so put out you'll come to thank me," a voice said that made Fenris shrink, the fear eating out his gut. He hid behind his hair to keep anybody from seeing.

"I sincerely doubt it, Tevinter," she said, fingers twitching.

"Oh no. Your food will last much longer by the time I leave. Or what you barbarians consider food. If you continue to be so polite and continue to make me think you might not actually be savages." Magister Danarius smiled, looking almost as prim and clean cut as Fenris remembers him. "You are unknowingly, probably, in possession of my property. I would like it returned and we will be on our way."

"Sorry Tevinter, I can't say I know what your talking about."

"He didn't tell you?"

"There aren't any secrets in my family. If you're referring to the fact that my brother is an ex-slave, than sir, you gravely mistaken to think he belongs to you. He belongs to nobody but himself." Marian hissed, bending and crouching. "But I don't think that's something a Tevinter would understand, huh?"

Danarius sighed, as if disappointed. "I was hoping to keep from having to kill too much of you trash. Very well. Fenris, my little wolf, dispatch of them." Danarius jumped as the man beside him fell over, the dagger in the mercenary's throat shaking as the man fell. Marian unsheathed another dagger, disappearing into the shadows fluidly. Carver attacked, taking out one man, elbowing the second and blocking the sword of a third.

Fenris, however, remained exactly where he began. He had an order, and he had a want. He had wants before, but now it slowed him. Made his blade feel heavy. Or was it the order that made his blade so heavy. It seemed so inevitable for his master to take them back. Who was he to actually fight it? What made him think he was was worth fighting his master? Fenris shivered, fingers twitching on the worn leather of his handle. What did he do?

Fire began to rain around them, Bethany up in the entrance of the cave summoning a storm. Danarius summoned a bubble to keep all danger away. "Fenris!" the man said warningly, in the voice that promised pain. So much pain. Fenris turned his eyes to Carver. He would be the easiest target to take out. Marian kept appearing and disappearing around the trees, striking at vitals. Bethany was too far away. Carver, with his back to him would be the easiest. And it was what he had to do wasn't it? What made him think he could actually be free?

His tattoos began to glow, and Fenris didn't have to look at Danarius to know he had the malicious smile on his face. Danarius knew him as well as he knew his master. It was disgusting. Blade raised he stopped to see the bubble flicker. Something was wrong. Then he saw Marian, mouth moving- she was counting down. Eyes wide Fenris realized what she was doing. Brilliant Fenris would have thought, had he not believed he had to protect Danarius again. With Bethany taking an offensive, with Carver making a scene, she had disappeared to strike Danarius at the exact moment between spells. Fenris rushed to stop her, mind barely thinking, body responding to instinct.

Danarius saw the expression and turned, swinging his staff against the threat. Marian dodged easy enough, her blade missing the mark however. It sunk deep into his guts, through the flimsy robes. Marian twisted and ripped through his skin as she gnashed and hissed like the savage Danarius called her. Danarius stumbled back only to have his entire lower half turned to ice as Bethany gave her own roar. Marian was ready to slit his neck but Fenris reached her, his hand phasing through, clutching around her heart. Her scream died in her throat as she stared down at the hand.

Fenris glanced up from where his hand disappeared to her face. Her beautiful honey brown hawk eyes were wide, losing their feral edge to look terrified. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to say something, tears beginning to run down her high cheekbones. The white blue of his lyrium tattoos against her face. "Fen...ris?" she said. Fenris could feel her heart beating in his hand.

Fenris swallowed, the sounds of the battle disappearing as he tried to respond as he was supposed to. As a slave he should- he wasn't able to finish that thought. A fireball hit near them and Fenris jumped, releasing her heart as he spun to stare at the magic fire. Marian dropped down, and for a moment he felt panic that he had killed her. He moved to hold her, only for her to dive away into the shadows. Danarius was already stumbling away, the healing magic pouring from his hands possibly the only thing keeping him alive and awake.

Marian staggered as another mercenary fell after she dove from behind a tree and she reached into her pouch and threw a vile at Danarius as the man raised his staff against her. The explosion of smoke burned Fenris's throat and he coughed and hacked. Danarius was no better. When it cleared she was gone. Danarius watched as his numbers dwindled, cursing and spitting. Fenris searched for Marian, Bethany downing a lyrium potion he could see to the side, Carver favoring his left side as he struggled. But he had held Marian's heart in his hand and she might not be okay anymore, no matter how much the adrenaline told her otherwise.

Fenris shouldn't care. He was a slave. Slaves weren't allowed to care. Slaves knew not to care. And he did. That meant he wasn't a slave, didn't it? Fenris shivered like a leaf, chest hurting and constricting and it was hard to breath. He had to get away. From Danarius. From his master. Not his master. Fenris swallowed hard. Danarius was yelling things, ordering him. Fenris couldn't hear him though. Not over the sound of the blood running, pumping in his ears. It was better that way, Fenris thought.

So lost was he that Fenris didn't feel the hand sliding under his armor until it was too late. A pinch and he lost consciousness, sliding back against his attacker, listening to her curses as everything else began to disappear.

He came too being dragged across the jungle, flinching. As soon as he came to his ankle hit a large root. He grunted and then whoever was dragging him dropped him. "He's awake then?" Carver said, and Fenris opened his eyes to see the two warrior siblings staring down at him. Carver held his sword so Marian likely had been the one carrying him. Fenris rubbed his head, feeling the dirt and mud stuck against his hair.

He searched their faces, muttering a weak, "What?"

"Get up. We still got to get to the rendezvous point. We're rather behind because we've been carrying your ass and trying to lose a small group of mercenaries." She glared at him. "If Bethany and Ma aren't alright, I'll personally gut you." Fenris tried to voice something. He knew what she was talking about. There was always an escape route. And a meeting place if they were separated. What he didn't understand was why he was being dragged along after them.

Instead of complaining though he struggled to his feet and used her shoulder to get the feet under him. "Let us go." Marian nodded at him and all three began their run again. The moon had risen by the time they found Bethany and Leandra. The two women rushed out to give them hugs, Leandra in tears as she hugged Carver to her. She even hugged Fenris. She didn't know then. As Leandra clung to him he saw Carver whispering to Bethany, and the wide eyes she gave him he knew what Carver had said.

Fenris looked away from her, only to see Marian walking past him. He shrunk away from her, and watched. Leandra cupped her face, smiling. No grand hug, no sobbing. Fenris wondered about their sort of relationship. It was far from what the others had with her. What he had with Leandra. He said nothing though, instead waiting to see where his place would be. Carver and Bethany avoided him, Marian put herself to work, and Leandra tried to coddle them all. Fenris stood until Marian barked at him to sit down and eat.

It was silent, save for the crackling of the fire. They didn't tell Leandra. Fenris noticed that. It was for the better, probably. After dinner Marian set up the plan. "We're moving again tomorrow. Get some rest. I'll take first watch." She dusted off her pants and left it to them to decide on the rest. Fenris got second. He was pretty sure it was Marian's doing. She'd be awake through his watch too most rest went to sleep. Trusting Marian to keep him in his place, most likely. It grated, but he deserved it, Fenris knew.

Once the rest were at least covered he stood and made his way towards Marian. She glanced up when he sat beside her. "Why am I here?" he said finally, glaring at her.

"Because I couldn't leave you with him," Marian said simply. "What did you do to me?"

"The lyrium allows me to partly travel to the Fade and I can pass through objects. Danarius," no longer Master- never again, "had me do it often enough."

"So those are your impressive abilities you were so vague about before huh?" Marian stared out into the darkness. The silence ate at his soul as he tried to work up the courage. Marian of course beat him to it. "Tomorrow is going to be painful. I've got bruises-"

"Stop! You can't do that!"

She jumped. "What?"

"Go back to normal. You can't do that!"

"Fenris, you don't get to say what I can and can't do." She rolled her shoulder, frowning. "That's the difference between you and me, and why I won't ever really be able to understand, Fenris. I can try, and to a point I can know. But when it comes down to it, I'm a lot more free than anybody. I don't have the Chantry beating down on me, I don't have a government, the Qun, a Master. The most I had were parents. And even growing up I took what they had to say only into consideration. There were lots of times I didn't agree. And I learned that they were right the hard way. Da thought it was funny. Ma hated it. But she hates Seheron, so," she shrugged. "Anyway the point is, I grew up and created my own moral standards. I have never had to bend to anybody else. I've had to watch out for them, but that's different."

"And you rub it in?"

"No, I'm making a point. I can't understand what you were going through back there with that Tevinter, Fenris. I don't have those feelings. It wasn't even a rebellion, like some of the stories we're told. Like the Qunari and was only one of you against your master. A rebellion- just dozens more standing with you, that would have been completely different. Actually running away from him, instead of chancing on your freedom. That would have been different. How much? I don't know." She shrugged, turning to face him. "I can't understand any of that, really. But what I do know, and understand, is that you didn't finish what you started. You didn't kill me when you sure as the void could have. You were holding my heart and I'll never forget that. Just like I'm not going to forget that you didn't crush it."

Fenris whimpered as she cupped his cheek again. "That matters?"

"You didn't kill my family. You didn't kill me. That is so much more important to me then the fact that you didn't kill the Magister."

Fenris pulled away from her hand. "You forgive me?"

"I guess I do." She gave a one shoulder shrug. "You look guilty enough."

Fenris glanced down at his hands. Marian had put hers back in her lap, neck craning to try and see the stars. "I need to go," he said.

"Are you coming back?" she asked. Of course she knew what he really meant.

"I don't know." Fenris stared at the dirt. He couldn't stay here. Not while he was so lost. He owed them everything, but it didn't matter if he couldn't repay it. And the way he was now, the way they looked at him, he needed to get away. Away from the lull they put him in. He wouldn't get better if he just forgot, pretended it didn't happen. And he would not let Danarius come back. They almost won. They had won; forced the Hawkes to pull back and run. He wouldn't let them be in this danger.

"I sort of lied back there. I called you my brother. But it's not really true. You're no Hawke, Fenris." She gave him a smile. "But I've grown to love you none the less. And I protect those I love as well as I can. You don't have to go. I'll back you, Fenris."

"I have to go."

"Okay." She turned to face him. She took a hand, glaring at him when he tried to retract it. "You have to promise me you'll never be a slave again." She wrapped her pinky around his. "This is a pinky promise. You can't break these. The entire world will explode if you do."

Fenris gave her an incredulous stare. "Marian."

"This is a fact. So you can't break it."

He sighed, not fighting the smile anymore. "Very well. I promise."

"Then I promise to keep a seat open for you at the dinner table. You'll always be welcome back, Fenris. You ever get tired of running away. Or you finally kill that son of a bitch. You'll have a place here." She pulled him then, fingers threading with his and she kissed his cheek. He stiffened, pulling away slowly. She let him, smiling. "Do you need supplies?"

"No." He stood fluidly. "I will stay for my watch and then-"

"Don't bother. I've got you covered, Fenris. Ma has been wanting to get out of Seheron since Pa died. So, if you come looking for us, you can skip Seheron. Not sure how we're getting off the island. Probably going to have to take a detour through Rivain first. After that, who knows. Ma is pushing for Fereldan. "

"I will keep that in mind."

"Stay safe. As safe as you can be, at any rate."

"Thank you." She waved it off. Fenris noticed she made a point not to look at him, and he understood why when the light of the moon caught on her tears. Fenris turned and left. Quickly, before he did something stupid, like stay with her.

He never stopped thinking about the Hawkes, about Marian. He never thought to see any of them again. The longer he was away, the farther he ran from Danarius, the more he agreed with himself that he would never see them again. She had a way of proving him wrong. Three years later he was in the Kirkwall alienage. With wide eyes he walked down the steps, past the slaver, staring at her.

Her skin had lightened a bit, her armor of better quality. She had cut her hair, the strands pulled back in a short ponytail. Her expression so much more guarded than he was used to with her. Her lips bloodied, out of breath. But her eyes. Those honey brown eyes hadn't changed at all. Fenris glanced behind her. A dwarf, a large red haired woman, and Bethany. Beautiful Bethany. She hadn't changed at all. Soft, completely. Face twisted in confusion. But no Carver. Fenris turned back to her.

Then the hand was on his shoulder and he snapped. Without thought he turned and ripped his heart out, letting the slaver fall and slump to the dirty ground. He heard the hiss and realized it probably wasn't the best action. Not after what he had done to her so long back. "Fenris?" she said though. Her voice was hoarse, he thought.

"You know the elf, Hawke?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

Fenris turned to her again. She was called Hawke now. She wasn't Marian. He wondered why. Not that it mattered. He didn't deserve it, but he needed her help now. As much as he hated dragging her in, when he left to protect them, he needed her. Taking a deep breath, Fenris asked for her help. He knew he had been missing her, but when she agreed to help, smiling at him like that again, he felt that something from three years ago stir, twisting in his gut. The feeling of relief was foreign to him. But it was a beautiful feeling. He gave her a small smile back.

The End

_There we go. I enjoyed writing this piece. Fenris was difficult to write (he often is, but more so this time) since I had to work in his slave attitude and then his broody attitude as well. But I enjoyed writing him. The only time I enjoyed writing him more was for my Tranquil!Hawke story. Which I should continue- and want to. But my muse never does what I want. Anyway, that is off topic. I was very happy when I finished this. Admittedly, no sexy times (and since this was for the kink meme that is a sad turn around) but I couldn't figure out how to do it. I do not see Hawke and Fenris in love or up for sexy times any time in this story. Also, if anybody is curious, I see Hawke as younger. Seventeen (or sixteen, but that's iffy) if I had to make a real number. Leaving Carver/Bethany about fifteen if I'm remembering my numbers right. So, at the beginning of the game Hawke would be nineteen/twenty depending on how long Fenris was with them (Fenris says I believe that he's had 3 years of freedom prior to the game during one of his conversations)._

_Anyway, that's all the little facts I have for this. Reviews are appreciated._


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